


Patience

by doridoripawaa



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Cats, F/F, Just Add Kittens, LGBTQ Character, No Lesbians Die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 02:27:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21263576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doridoripawaa/pseuds/doridoripawaa
Summary: What, or who, could possibly make Hilda run around Garreg Mach?





	Patience

Hilda Valentine Goneril was not a patient person.

Lazy? Yes. Patient? Not at all.

"Marianne, I've never seen you so worked up about anything in your life," she observed as she followed the blue-haired girl throughout the halls of Garreg Mach monastery. "Can you  _ please  _ tell me where we're going?"

The greenhouse. Marianne had rushed up to her, insisting that she accompany her to the greenhouse. Of course Hilda had opted to accompany her to tend to the flowers. She didn't have to do any heavy lifting; she could harvest flowers and make accessories with them; and she would get to spend time chatting with the sweet, cute, albeit fretful, Marianne. Plus, the two of them had established a sort of routine, with an implicit deal involved: whenever Hilda helped Marianne with her chores, the latter would provide sweets for a tea party. Why would she even think twice about such a simple decision? 

Hilda preferred to live a simple, slothful life, so that she never had to meet anyone's expectations and thus never live with regrets. If she never tried, then she would never fail.

Today, however, perhaps for the first time since coming to the monastery, Hilda was beginning to feel a tinge of regret.

Her legs ran swiftly to keep up with Marianne's frantic pace, but her mind was running even faster. What could Marianne  _ possibly  _ be so worried about this time?

"Marianne."

Hesitant. Humble. High-strung. Marianne had the lowest self-esteem out of everyone that Hilda had ever met; she did not think such a level of solemn self-loathing was even possible. When Hilda constantly cleaned up after her, she would apologize again and again until Hilda thought her ears would bleed.

Why, then, was she so forceful today?

The meek mage continued to press forward, stopping in various locations along the way, but never for long. The greenhouse. The stables. The gardens. She even dropped by the training grounds, where Hilda refused to follow her, out of a nagging fear that Byleth may be lurking in there and convince her to practice her axe technique. 

Much like Hilda during most practices, every place that Marianne visited seemed to be a swing and a miss. She would search the rooms, the bricks, the nooks and crannies, and then depart with that same fearful look on her face. 

"Marianne."

No response. Her whines were met with the continued plodding of footsteps.

"Marianne!" 

Finally she reached out and snatched Marianne's wrist. Her strong grip easily captured her friend in its grasp. Much to her surprise, Marianne tried to twist her arm and break free. However, after just one attempt, she seemed to realize that resistance was futile. Her feeble hands were trained for magic, not melee, and she simply could not flee Hilda's grasp.

"Hilda," she murmured. "I… I'm sorry to drag you into this."

"Drag me into what?" Hilda demanded. "Honestly, I do not mind helping you out, if you need help! Haven't I always given you a hand when you need one?" She firmly placed a hand on her hip. "I  _ hate  _ chores, but I always do them for you. You're so helpless that  _ someone  _ has to help you figure out how to clean, and organize, and stack, and sort…." The list could keep going, but with every word, Marianne's facial expression became more strained and more sorrowful. Hilda allowed her voice to trail off. She wanted to make a point, but hurting Marianne was not at all her intention. She would never harm Marianne, except for maybe a careless slip of the tongue. 

"Please let go," Marianne whispered at last. "You're hurting me."

Immediately Hilda pried her fingers from Marianne's slender wrist. She winced when she saw the faint red marks that zigzagged on the girl's pale skin. "I… I'm still a delicate flower, you know," she muttered, feeling her face begin to get warm. "Sorry. I didn't mean to hold on so tightly." Hurting Marianne, either physically or mentally, was the last thing that she ever wanted to do.

"I know," Marianne replied calmly. The tiniest smile seemed to creep onto her thin, ashen lips, but it vanished so quickly that Hilda almost wondered if it had been an illusion. "I just… I couldn't bother anyone else with this."

Clearly. The only thing Marianne seemed to hate more than herself was the idea of troubling others for her own benefit. "You never seem to mind bothering  _ me _ ," Hilda pointed out bluntly. "I guess I'm special?" she teased.

"You…" A deep flush spread across Marianne's face, and embarrassment and trepidation began to stew in her eyes. "Yes… I suppose you are."

Hilda's face began to feel warm again. "That's a lot of pressure, you know." For once, though, she did not think she minded.

"I'm sorry…" The shine in Marianne's eyes died down, and her gaze traveled to the floor.

"No. No no no. Do not start pouting," Hilda protested immediately. She folded her arms across her chest and cleared her throat. "Let's focus. Why are you running around like a horse without a rider?" she demanded. "I just want to know why I'm dragging myself all over this enormous monastery." 

Marianne did not raise her head for a while. She began to fiddle with the buttons on her shirt, and then she began to twirl the loose strands of her hair. Hilda was already impatient, and she began to twirl her own twintails as she awaited an answer. Patience was definitely not her strong suit, but if she pushed Marianne any harder, she feared the other girl may start to cry or flee.

"Marianne," she murmured at last, very softly. "What's bothering you?"

The gentle tone seemed to stir Marianne and snap her out of whatever fear was holding her back. As if Hilda's voice had unlocked the chains tying her down, Marianne lifted her chin and looked Hilda directly in the eyes. Her burning blue gaze flared like the hottest fire and shone like the brightest star. "I need to find something," she whispered at last. "And I want you to be there when we find it."

Awestruck by the depths that lay open before her, and only her, the pink-haired girl stumbled for a moment before she could respond. "What are we waiting for?" she asked at last. "Lead the way."

That ephemeral smile graced Marianne's lips once more, but once again, it vanished before Hilda could be certain that she actually saw it. "I would love to," she began, and her eyes began to travel towards their boots, "but… I am not sure where it is anymore…" She sounded utterly defeated. "I checked every place I could imagine, but…" Her voice trailed off. "I'm sorry," she murmured, barely above a whisper. Her voice was small, but it was laden with anguish.

That pitiful tone was something that Hilda would  _ not  _ tolerate. Rather, she could not bear to tolerate it. "Oh, please do not look at me like that!" she wailed. "You look like a campus kitten begging for scraps."

These words seemed to strike Marianne with particular force; she stepped back, as if actually taken aback by shock.

"Hey now, I'm sorry," Hilda rapidly waved her hands in front of her face. "I just hate seeing you look so pathetic! I could never nail that look no matter how hard I try!"

A soft giggle, as delicate and dainty as wind chimes, danced along the breeze to Hilda's ears. "Do you mean… you're jealous of me, Hilda?" Marianne shook her head, as if she could not fathom such a ridiculous idea. "I'm sorry."

"No,  _ I  _ am sorry! I'm sorry you feel the need to keep saying sorry!" Hilda stamped her foot on the ground emphatically. As much as she enjoyed spending time with Marianne, the gentle girl's habit of constantly apologizing bothered her to no end. She reached forward and gently grasped Marianne's hands in her own. Remembering her accidental monstrous grip from earlier, she kept her own hold very loose and dainty, like the delicate flower she claimed to be. "Why not try a 'thank you' instead?" she murmured, and she lowered her head so that she could look into Marianne's evasive eyes. "That sounds waaaaay better." With a grin, she stepped back and let go of one of her companion's hands. Her other hand, though, slipped into Marianne's soft, but sweaty, palm, and she intertwined their fingers together. "You're stuck with me now!" Hilda declared loudly and proudly. "Is there any other place we could check?"

Marianne seemed nearly petrified as she tried to process the events unfolding before her. She gave Hilda's hand a simple squeeze, as if to draw power from it. To ground herself. "Do you mean it?" she asked tentatively. "Because… I think I have one more idea…"

"I'm in this for the long haul!" The warrior beamed at the girl by her side. "I hope you're ready for the tea party of a lifetime later. I expect an entire cake," she added, as Marianne began to trot off in a new direction.

Hopefully they would find Marianne's mystery before nap time.

* * *

"Oh my GODDESS, Marianne!"

Four squirming balls of fur lie before the girls' eyes, more petite and precious than the prettiest pastry. Mumbling mewls escaped their fuzzy little lips as they nuzzled into their mother's belly, desperately seeking for nourishment.

"Aren't they cute?" Marianne murmured as she kneeled down. She gazed at them longingly. "A beautiful little family," she whispered. "They can rely on their mother, and even though they may push each other and get a little competitive, I'm sure they know they can rely on each other too…." She coughed slightly and then shook her head. "They're really cute when they're sleeping," she told Hilda as nonchalantly as she could.

"Well we definitely have to come back, then," Hilda decided. "Next week. No, tomorrow. Oh my goddess, I could stare at these kittens for hours!"

Did she hear a hummingbird's wings beating against the wind, or was that a sharp little laugh leaving Marianne's mouth? Hilda dared to look away from the kittens and sneak a glance at Marianne. The smile on her face, Hilda knew now, was no illusion. She looked purely blissful in this moment, as she stared dreamily at the bundles of fur nestled into their makeshift nest of feathers, straw, and, apparently, a library book. Hopefully it wasn't too important.

"The graveyard," Hilda whispered. "Who would have thought there would be kittens here?"

"They were in the stables before, honestly," Marianne began rather defensively. "There's sort of a laughable irony in them being here, isn't there?" Her attention never shifted from the cats as she spoke. "In this graveyard, where we commemorate life that ends… here, life is beginning, too." If Hilda had to guess, she would say that her friend's amber gaze was no longer focused on the animals but rather staring at something else, far in the distance. 

"Well, that's the circle of life." Hilda placed herself on the ground and then propped her chin up on her elbows. "Everything that begins must end, but even things that end can begin again with a little push, albeit in a different way. What?" She narrowed her eyes at Marianne, who had turned her full attention onto her. "Every stage in life is important… if you believe in something like that. I, for one, believe in naps." Maybe she had said too much. She flipped over onto her back and closed her eyes. "Good night."

They sat in silence for a while, and Hilda allowed her breathing to slow and try to fall into a rhythm as she attempted to doze off. She had done quite a bit of running around, after all.

"You… you're pretty cute when you're sleeping, too," Marianne whispered. "I'm sorry about dragging y- I mean, thank you. Thank you for always sticking with me." She paused. "Good night, my friend."

Maybe Hilda would continue to pretend she was sleeping for just a little longer.

Hilda Valentine Goneril was not a patient person.

Today, however, she may have become a little more patient than she was before.


End file.
